I can do that.
She had his passwords. He’d changed them recently. He hadn’t been very creative, or careful, with them. She’d surreptitiously watched him jot them on a piece of paper, crumple it, and toss it into the trash. That slip of paper was now in her wallet, tucked between two credit cards.
The problem was, Zoran took his laptop wherever he went; to work, and to his fishing cabin.
The cabin.
He’d been spending more time there. If he was cheating with another woman, that was the most likely place he’d take her. It’s where he used to take Lorena in the first months of their relationship.
For a moment she’d drifted into memories of her time there with him. It was a beautiful, secluded spot, isolated in the woods west of Buffalo in Pennsylvania.
Almost halfway to Cleveland.
By the time Lorena had reached the checkout, she had a strategy.
The next time Zoran went off alone to his cabin, she’d follow him. She’d either catch him in the act, or find a way to gain access to his laptop when he was out of the cabin.
“Will that be cash or credit?” the cashier asked her after she’d rung in Lorena’s groceries.
“Credit card.”
Reaching into her wallet for her card, she took comfort seeing the slip of paper she needed.
One way or another, I’m going to bring this all to an end.
Sixty
Greater Buffalo, New York
Greg slipped from the tentacles of sleep.
It was still night.
In the ambient light under the sheets beside him he saw a shape.
Jenn was there!
Comprehension and joy blossomed in his chest.
Jenn’s not dead! It was a horrible nightmare. It never happened.
His heart racing, wanting to take her in his arms, he drew back the sheet slowly but not to Jenn. It was Jake, asleep. Reality hit Greg in the gut with sledgehammer force.
Jenn was dead.
Head sinking into his pillow, he choked down a sob because part of him had known it was futile to deny she was gone.
He looked at the clock: 1:20 a.m. Practically the same time he woke that awful, awful night. Then, as he had every night in the time since he had buried Jenn, Greg lay there in bed, his eyes open. Again, his grief had overpowered the sleeping pills, taking him hostage, torturing him with lightning flashes of memory.
Jenn’s empty side of the bed, driving into the night searching for her, searching all night, Brooke’s hands all over him... “We’d be great together...” Jenn’s blue Corolla entangled in the woods, the detectives’ accusations, the polygraph, Kozak telling him: “Jennifer didn’t survive her injuries. She’s dead.” TV news reports—“A woman was killed”—the fiery freeway explosion, finding images of charred remains, carrying her casket with... Jenn smiling and waving on the beach. “So long...” Her last wave. “Bye.”
Her casket descending into the ground...
Over and over, the images tormented him until the hour before dawn and he hefted himself from bed. Body aching, he made his way into the bathroom and started a hot shower.
As steam clouds rose around him, he slammed his back against the wall, slid down to the floor, lifting his face to the needles of water and sobbing for Jenn.
* * *
Greg and Jake began the day, going through what had become the semblance of a morning routine for them.
Jake got up, got dressed. He had started going back to school. He wanted to because in some way, he felt his mother’s presence there, found comfort in being with his friends, the teachers, the cafeteria workers, and the custodians.
Downstairs, in the kitchen, Jake got his own breakfast, a bowl of frosted flakes with milk. But he ate little, reading the promotion for a game prize on the back of the box. Jake hardly spoke at home anymore. His shirt looks bigger on him. He’s losing weight, Greg thought, when he made coffee for himself and toast for both of them.
Greg could only manage a few bites. Jake didn’t touch his slice.
“I’m running out of clean underwear, Dad.”
Greg looked at him, stunned Jake had said so much at once. Forcing himself to deal with the issue, Greg, up to now, had just kept buying new underwear for them. When Kat found out, she’d taped instructions to the washer and dryer for Greg, for the times she couldn’t be there to help.
“I’ll take care of it later,” Greg said. “Brush your teeth when you’re done, and I’ll drive you to school.”
Rolling through the neighborhood in his pickup, Greg glanced at his son. Wounded by the loss of his mother, Jake had become muted. He even looked older, and it pulled Greg back to when his own mother had died.
Your world is never the same. It’s like you can’t trust the earth not to collapse under your feet.
Greg stopped at the school. Jake hugged him tight.
“I love you, Dad.”
“I love you, son.”
Jake grabbed his backpack and climbed out of the truck.
“Remember, Dad, underwear.”
“Got it.”
Greg watched Jake join his friends in the schoolyard. Seeing he was safe among the living, he drove off to the job site.
He hadn’t fully returned to work, but when he was up to it, he’d drive past Depew to Pine Castle Park where he would see his crew, and Al Clayton would update him on the status of the project. Sometimes he heard what Al was telling him, other times, he heard nothing but a dull thudding at the back of his skull. He would thank Al, then walk alone around the site, then leave.
Greg drove off, thinking how he and Jake had been drained of the essence of their lives. The pain was immobilizing, leaving them weakened to mimic the motions of everyday life. His driving was an effort to outrun the guilt, anger, and sorrow whirling inside him, but he couldn’t outrun them because they were interwoven with his soul. A horrible force had clawed through the web of his existence, leaving it in tatters. He’d defined himself through Jenn. Now he was lost.
He was her husband.
Now he was a widower.
Today Greg had, once again, driven to the edge of the city, coming to the church in the countryside where Jenn was buried.
He parked in the empty lot.
No other vehicles in sight. No sign of anyone.
He got out, walked over the soft green grass, passing through the gates of the cemetery. He came to the fresh mound of earth that was Jenn’s grave. The monument maker had told him that it would be some time before the engraved granite headstone would be ready for installation. Until then, the cemetery’s rules allowed for a wooden cross to be placed on the site. Greg swallowed then tenderly touched it, an oak cross grave marker with her name professionally carved into it: